I'm kind of whack. I was born whack. By whack I mean a hypochondriac. I can recount many examples and I will give you a few; back in middle school one of my friend's mother died of ALS disease or more commonly known as "Lou Gherig's Disease". Being young and not having dealt with much death in my life I did some research on ALS and found it was the deteriorating of muscles until eventually your heart atrophies and then you die. Some of the warning signs include twitching muscles, the numbing of limbs, etc. So from that point on, every time my muscle twitched or one of my limbs decided to go numb I was convinced that I had ALS and I was going to die. My parents convinced me that I was not going to die. I didn't understand why they weren't taking me seriously and they were going to be really sorry when I died. Clearly the joke was on me because I'm still alive.
If you are a faithful BellaFrench reader you will know that back in June I thought I might be prego and then found out I wasn't and life was hunky dory again. What I failed to mention in said blog post was that I was freaking out about the possibility of being knocked up. I had way too many things to get done before I could introduce a child into the Shurts household. I called my mom all crying and while she was trying to calm me down and convince me that more than likely I wasn't pregnant. Little did I know she was rejoicing on the other end of the phone on the 1% chance that I could be. She also secretly thought I was whack. Scratch that, she openly tells me I'm whack. A gene inherited from my father, or so she claims.
Now before all of you over eager readers start thinking I'm telling you this long drawn out story to reveal that I'm pregnant, I'm not. Let's just end that little fantasy right now.
Back to my story. I'm not going to get into all of the details because I know I have some sensitive readers out there that don't want to read about menstrual cycles and whatnot but I will say I had a reason to wonder if I was pregnant again.
Now, what's different about this wacky pregnancy scare is that this time I was kind of okay with it. I had the usual worries like, "is now the right time?" "the economy is shit right now...can we afford me...and a baby?" "will Aaron divorce me if I ask him 1.98 million times if I look fat in my pregnancy jeans?" but then I kind of got...maybe...a little excited.
I know. I can't believe I just wrote that.
When it came to pass that I was not pregnant I felt a little sad inside and I went to our bedroom and woke Aaron up and told him he wasn't going to be a dad just yet. I also texted my mom and said "Sorry Grandma...not yet". It was quite an eye opening experience for me because I always thought I was just going to have babies to carry on my wonderful gene pool (and Aaron's too but mainly mine). I didn't know that I would actually want one. Weird. Maybe I do have a nice gene (and a crazy gene) after all.
All I have to say is, Aaron better watch out. I always get what I want.